Wild Knights

by Blaise Kilgallen

  He slid into the car quickly and inserted the car key in the ignition. As the engine purred, he hit the button activating the soft top and hopped back out. He stood next to the car as the roof rose and unfolded over the leather seats.

  Carla moved to leave, heading back toward the building to eat her free lunch in the cafeteria.

  "Don't I remember meeting you somewhere?" Evan scratched his head as he said to her retreating back. "Hey! Ain't you the lady that teaches that recreation stuff? My mother told me you were very nice to her."

  Carla paused and grabbed the courage to turn and look up at his face. Her sensible, low-heeled shoes grew roots into the parking lot macadam. Her legs didn't move, not forward or back. Only her heart did a double dip.

  You're really something, aren't you, dummy? Now's your big chance to talk with him and you stand here with your mouth hanging open like an oven.

  He aimed a pointed look at her and leaned his tight backside against the car door. Just as quickly, he jumped away.

  Carla laughed. It was more like a muffled giggle, but she couldn't help it.

  "Yeah, pretty stupid, ain't I? Shoudda knew the damn door was hot as hell, too." He grinned and flashed her a mouth full of even white teeth. When she didn't answer, he said, "Well, I'll be seein' ya." It appeared he was leaving.

  She swallowed hard, hurrying to say something ... anything. "Uh ... I'm sorry," she managed at last.

  He turned back. "What for?"

  "I mean about your mother. Rose. She ... uh ... liked to paint."

  He didn't say anything else, and now she felt stupid.

  "Pictures," she added finally, the word seemingly coming out of lurk-mode from the inner workings of her brain.

  The glint in his black eyes drew her in. They were surrounded by the longest, thickest, blackest eyelashes she ever saw. She couldn't tear her gaze away from them.

  Carla, Carla, get hold of yourself. Say something that sounds a little intelligent at least.

  But incredibly, he seemed to understand. "Yeah. She told me you helped her a lot with her stuff. Like those pictures. I kept some of them as souvenirs."

  "Souvenirs?"

  "You know, like, memories. Of her. Like the roses."

  "Oh."

  He turned back to his car and opened the door.

  "Well, looks like it's cooled down in here. Gotta go. See ya."

  While Carla stood there, the big white Caddy pulled out of the parking spot and roared onto the street. Carla thought he might turn and wave at her, but he didn't. She strolled slowly back to the building, her head awhirl, and her heart still pounding in her chest.

  * * * *

  She's got a cute butt, Evan thought as he drove out of the Spa's parking lot. He was late for training. It took three hours of daily riding and medieval combat training to stay sharp. Then there was time needed to groom his horse, King Richard. Today was a damn hot day to work, especially since he'd already spent an hour and a half digging in the earth, turning the dirt around the roots of the rosebushes and adding fertilizer to keep them flowering.

  Wonder how old she is? he thought, his mind replaying the interesting wiggle on her backside when she walked away from his car. Got to be in her thirties. But that's okay. I like older women, ones who know their way around. Maybe I should check her out, see if she's single. I'm not tight with anyone right now since Jen and me broke up.

  Evan slammed on the brakes as a gray squirrel ran in front of the car. His heart jolted into his throat. He never wanted to hurt an animal if he could help it. He slowed down and took his time, arriving ten minutes late at the Medieval Showtime stables. He'd add those ten minutes to the end of his workday after tonight's performance. Then he had two days off.

  * * * *

  Carla couldn't sleep that night. It was too hot in her bedroom. She lived with air-conditioning all day and usually didn't need it at night when the temperature cooled down. But tonight was stifling, not even a whiff of breeze blew through her screened windows. She'd stripped down to a sleeveless camisole, but even that felt too heavy and sticky. She grabbed the hem and pulled it over her head, feeling wickedly naked but at least somewhat cooler.

  She threw herself onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. It felt good to be bare. She spread her legs wide, pushing arms away from her sides, hoping a tiny breeze would brush over her. Looking at the light coming through the window, she saw her white cat, Cleo, sitting on the windowsill. Her mind was on fire with thoughts of Evan Lupo, his sexy bedroom eyes and his delicious hard, male body. She could almost feel him lying next to her, turning to pull her into his arms and...

  She groaned out loud.

  A powerful car rumbled past her house from the direction of the all-night diner. A thought tossed around in her head, and she wondered if the car was a white Caddy with Evan at the wheel.

  Don't be dumb, Carla. What if it was? What would he be doing in this part of town anyway? He certainly wouldn't be stopping here. He doesn't know my name or where I live. Get a life, she scolded herself and rolled to her side on a cooler section of the bed sheet.

  Carla rested her palms on her ribcage, a thumb encountering a nipple. Slowly, she rubbed the tip of her finger across the pebbled nub. The nipple budded, turned hard. She scratched the tip with a short fingernail. More vivid sensations speared toward her groin.

  Making herself more comfortable, Carla moistened her index finger, then moved it to her left breast. She twirled the fingertip around the aureola in a circle, sensations growing more intense, shooting between her thighs. She closed her eyes tight and continued to masturbate, enjoying herself. It was wicked. It felt wonderful. And she couldn't help herself. She tried to make believe it was sexy-eyed Evan doing these wonderful things to her. Pressure built between her legs.

  Carla was sweating now, wanting to climax. Needing to climax. With one hand teasing a nipple, she opened her damp thighs as wide as she could, exposing her labia to the night air, and brought a finger down to stroke herself. Her plump flesh was soon hot and wet from her ministrations, and she rubbed her clit, gently teasing, coming closer and closer to where she wanted to go. Her core grew puffy and slick with fluid. Carla reached farther back, pushing deeper, until she found the hot spot that triggered her release and tickled it. Almost instantly, her vagina clamped down on her finger, her inner muscles convulsing. But the climax was brief, unsatisfying. Certainly not satisfying enough to take her into the realm of pounding blood and wild ecstasy.

  Damn it! There's got to be a better way to make it last longer. I need a real live man toy.

  Carla wiped her fingers on the bed sheet and tried to relax. Maybe now she could get to sleep.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  "Who did you say this was?"

  Carla almost hung up, thinking it was another of those annoying telemarketing phone calls. But the voice on the other end was so masculine and interesting she could almost believe it was...

  "My name's Evan Lupo. I'm the substitute gardener at the Riverside Spa." After a brief moment of dead air, he continued in a rush. "I guess you don't remember me. I talked to you yesterday ... in the parking lot."

  "Oh, yeah ... er ... in the parking lot." Carla was either choking or swallowing her tongue.

  What's the matter with me?

  She sucked in a deep breath, held it. Then exhaled, slowly. "Er ... what can I do for you, Mr. Lupo?"

  "Wondered if you wanted to go to dinner with me tonight. I've got the night off and I'm lonesome."

  Lonesome? She couldn't believe her ears. Evan Lupo was calling her for a date, because he was lonesome? Holy Hannah, this must be some kind of stupid joke.

  "Who is this?" She repeated dumbly.

  "My name is Evan, Carla, remember?" The voice on the other end was patient, amused. "What do you like to eat? Italian, Chinese, Mexican. You tell me, and I'll find us a good place. How about I pick you up at seven tonight? Just give me your address." The pause on his end was miniscule. "Go ahead."

  Her th
roat was as dry as sand, but she said, "255 Main, in West Rutherford."

  "Gotcha. And dress casual, huh? See you at seven, Carla." And he hung up.

  The smart aleck didn't even let me answer his invitation, Carla thought, dazed. Oh, this is really crazy. Someone's pulling my leg for sure. Was he drunk when he called? Maybe I should slam the door in his face when he shows up. If he shows up.

  Don't be stupid! This is what you've wanted--needed--for a couple of weeks. More like a couple of years. If you play it smart, you can have him in your bed tonight. Think about it.

  And she did think about it, over and over, while she rushed to apply makeup and select something sexy to wear.

  * * * *

  When Carla heard a car pull up to the front of her house at seven on the dot, she peeked out from her small bedroom window and saw the white Caddy in front with the top down. Evan Lupo opened the car door and stood up--all 6 feet 5 inches of him. He wore a gray T-shirt and faded jeans. Carla thought he might have just showered, since his longish, curly hair was slicked back and shiny as a crow's feathers. She gulped air, pushed her heart back down in her chest, and went downstairs to meet him at the front door.

  "Hi," she said, looking up at him with a tentative smile.

  "Evening."

  He jingled his car keys nervously.

  "Er ... do you want to come in for a minute?" Carla asked, feeling awkward. "Because I'm ready if you'd rather go."

  "I'm ready. Let's go eat."

  She picked up her purse, wiggled her fingers at Cleo who was half-asleep on her favorite chair, and walked out. She pulled the door behind her firmly, feeling the lock catch, then followed Evan down the front steps. He opened the door on the passenger's side for her, and she slid onto the leather seat. Evan climbed in the driver's seat and started the car.

  "Do you always do that?" he asked as he pulled away from the curb.

  Carla frowned. "Do what?"

  "Yank on the doorknob to make sure the door's locked. So the boogie man won't get you?"

  "Oh. I guess I do," she answered, embarrassed by her action and his question. "I must take after my mother. It was a habit of hers, like..." She hesitated, not wanting to offend him, then plunged ahead. "It's like your habit of fooling with your car keys. I guess we all have a weird habit or two, huh?"

  He just grinned at her and her heart flip-flopped. "Where d'ya wanna eat?"

  She watched his big hands on the steering wheel, aware of what he could do to her with them. "I'm not fussy ... Evan." She smiled at him.

  "I know a place in Lindhurst that has Italian food. It's not fancy but it's good. Besides, I know the owner. Is that okay with you?"

  She nodded.

  Now what? she thought. I don't even know how to make "date" conversation. Is that supposed to be the sum total of our conversation for the evening? How the hell did I get myself into this?

  "That your cat I saw inside?"

  "Yes. That's Cleo. I've had her for almost two years. I got her right after my mother passed away."

  "You lost your mom, too. Sorry to hear that."

  Do you commiserate with a hunk that you want to fuck?

  "I'm sorry, too. And I liked your mother very much." Carla took another stab at conversation. "I've watched you gardening at the Spa, Evan. Taking care of your mother's rosebushes."

  "Yeah. When we lived in Newark, my mother had a backyard loaded with roses." He cleared his throat. "I grew up in Newark. My Uncle Tony helped me plant the roses when I was a kid."

  "I see. Your mother must've appreciated that."

  "I left Newark when I turned 18." He hesitated. "My mother took care of them by herself until last year. Then she couldn't do it anymore. Anyway, I try, but I'm pretty busy."

  "I suppose you are, what with your landscaping business and your appearances at the Medieval Showplace and all..."

  "Yeah, the roses ... and my training. Oh, yeah, and my horse, too. I ... er ... try to keep busy. I work out almost every day. Gotta keep in shape, you know. For the jousting, I mean."

  By this time, the Caddy had crossed the state highway's overpass into Lindhurst.

  "Carla?" Evan interrupted her when he took his eyes off the road and looked straight into hers. "I'm curious. Why did you want to go out with me?"

  Carla was surprised by his question and stuttered slightly when she answered. "I-I don't know why. I guess except you..."

  "Are you attracted to me?"

  Talk about blunt questions.

  "Yes." She let it go at that. May as well be truthful.

  "I'm glad."

  Evan was smiling as he pulled around a corner near the Knights' Italian Pub and parked. Carla laughed to herself when she saw where they were and the name of the eatery. It seemed everything in this town had some connection to Medieval Showtime's showplace. Including Evan Lupo.

  Carla saw that Evan, at least, knew how to behave as a gentleman. He held the car door open for her and reached a hand to help her out. Letting go, his warm palm grazed her elbow as he guided her to the entrance. Pulling open the restaurant's impressive door, he allowed her to precede him inside.

  As the owner came over to greet them, Evan gestured to a booth in the back. After being seated in a dim rear corner, Carla accepted a glass of red wine. Evan drank a Bud(r) and ordered another before their dinner arrived. Conversation was somewhat stilted, almost halting, but they managed to keep it going. Carla did learn Evan was as serious a football fan as she was. At least they had that in common.

  Meanwhile, his eyes focused on her, roaming her face while they talked about everyday things. When his gaze fastened on her breasts, Carla almost felt the heat his dark eyes generated. Her nipples tingled and tightened. A sharp jolt of sensation zigged between her thighs.

  It was easy for her to recognize what was going on in Evan Lupo's head. Conversation slowed. For long moments they sat across the table, wordless, looking at one another without speaking. Then Evan reached across the table and captured her fingers in his callused hand, rubbing his thumb in circles on the inside of her wrist. Carla flinched slightly under his caress. He suddenly stood, threw a $20 bill onto the table, and pulled Carla to her feet.

  "Let's go."

  The short ride back to her house lengthened in silence. Finally, Evan flipped on the car radio. Nevertheless, a latent tension between them seemed to grow and expand the closer they got to Carla's street. Thoughts whirled in her head; butterflies cavorted in her solar plexus. Fingers meshed tight together where they lay in her lap.

  Evan suddenly grabbed one of her hands, pulling on it. The Caddy's automatic shift was on the steering post, so nothing hindered her slide across the wide front seat, close to his side. He dragged their linked hands against his swollen cock. Carla realized the heat emanating from the bulge in his jeans was almost enough to fry an egg.

  As he pulled the Caddy to a standstill in front of Carla's address, Evan hit the button that raised the convertible roof. When the hood snapped shut, Evan released her hand, snapping the mechanism into place. Then he turned toward her.

  "I've been waiting all night for this," he said. His voice was deep and heavy with intent. He pulled her toward him, wrapped his brawny arms around her, and started kissing her.

  Carla had never been kissed quite this way, with such burning intensity. When she had been younger and more naïve, she had been frightened and disgusted the first time Billy French-kissed her, and she had pulled away from his ravishing tongue. But he'd coaxed her, telling her that "real" men kissed like that, so she'd let him. And she'd learned to like it.

  Evan's experienced kisses were anything but disgusting. Carla told herself to relax, get used to the feel of a man holding her in his arms with his tongue in her mouth again. Her hands slowly crept higher and slipped under the long hair brushing his shoulders to clasp the warm skin on his big neck.

  His kisses sucked everything out of her mouth, including her tongue. Carla fought to catch her breath as their mouths opened wide, tongu
es meshing with each other, feverishly licking and tasting as if they couldn't get enough. Raw, hungry groans and soft murmurs built inside the Caddy as the air grew hotter and more intense by the minute.

  Evan felt Carla responding; she kissed like a pro. He was convinced she wanted sex as much as he did. Damn, she was hot! His cock was big and hard as a rock already. When he'd met her in the parking lot, something about her caught his eye, something more than her cute, wiggling ass and her boobs, something about her he couldn't forget. When she met him at the door, he told himself this was gonna be some great night. Carla wore the look of a woman who wanted to be fucked. Evan liked that; he loved women who didn't tease but knew what they wanted and found ways to get it. He'd accommodate them, one and all. He wanted nothing better than a wild partner clawing at his zipper, trying to get at his pecker.

  He widened his mouth and covered hers. She pushed her tongue in and rolled it around his teeth. He loved this kind of foreplay. Holy shit! He was on fire with lust for this babe. He never jumped a woman's bones on a first date, but Carla was driving him up a wall. The way things were going, he damn well couldn't hold back.

  "C'mon, sweet," he coaxed. "Let yourself go." He growled low in his throat, turning to nuzzle her earlobe, nibbling around its edge, and pushing his tongue into the opening. His hands moved up and down Carla's slender spine while he dragged her cotton top out of her pants. When he laid his big palms against the velvet of her skin, she was warm and pliant beneath his touch. Raising the hem of her shirt higher, Evan caressed her, taking his time, making love to her womanly hips, slender torso, and lush breasts. He felt her jerk just a little, but she didn't stop him from unhooking her bra. When he let the bra droop away from her flesh, unheeded, the weight of her breasts fell into his waiting palms. He squeezed the soft mounds of flesh and thumbed across the hardened tips. His blood pressure soared as his erection pulsed, fighting the restraint of his tight jeans. He was sure Carla Moore was putty in his hands.